


sick alright

by AdorabloodthirstyKitty



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Medieval, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-18 01:08:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11280585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdorabloodthirstyKitty/pseuds/AdorabloodthirstyKitty
Summary: for my love gg and her AMAZING warlord au that I've been in love with since she first told us about it. I love you and your au so much hun, and I hope you're having an amazing day today and every day ♡♡♡♡♡





	1. Give Me More But It's Not Enough

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GalaxyGhosty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalaxyGhosty/gifts).



> for my love gg and her AMAZING warlord au that I've been in love with since she first told us about it. I love you and your au so much hun, and I hope you're having an amazing day today and every day ♡♡♡♡♡

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He knew he was a monster long before the rumors grew so widespread. He knew what he was. But is it still what he wants to be? Did he ever really want it at all?

He has had many names over the span of his reign. The Plague, Harvestman, Reaper. He is known for his cruelty. He still remembers the vivid crimson that spilled from his father's chest when he plunged the blade in, the same shade as his own eyes. The scent of ash follows him as he burns towns and houses to rubble and soot like a second cloak, his presence an omen of death and destruction.

Dark has had many names. He has been to many places, plucking cities and whole countries from their ruler's grasp with fire and blade. He is by far the most powerful and dangerous man in the country, if not the world.

Yet seeing those familiar blue eyes, wide in fear, makes him feel small. The blade at the boy's throat gives him pause, and makes him feel so much weaker than he ever has. Behind the fury, the hatred for the men holding him captive, is fear. Bright and sharp and unfamiliar.

He still remembers the look Jack had given as he stood in his sister's place, defiant and steadfast. He had admired that, the low pull of those dark brows, the steeliness of those beautiful blue eyes. He remembers that first night, his pale form shaking in fear or cold or pain, the brand in his hip still bright red and fresh. His eyes had been bright with pain, but he had never lost that snark, that defiance. The quickness of his tongue and sharpness of his gaze had never truly disappeared.

Not until now.

Now, Jack watches across a field of muck and fire and steel, blood soaking into wet earth. He watches as Dark is surrounded by an army of bright silver, shining even in the dull light, the sun subdued by clouds and smoke. He watches as he's held at knife point, the point of a sword resting just under his lover's chin.

Dark meets his eyes across the field, over the heads and shoulders of a small army ready to strike him down, and smiles.


	2. Show Me Your Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _If you're gonna be the death of me_   
>  _That's how I wanna go_

He kicks out at the soldier in front of him, getting him square in the chest and pushing him back into the men behind him with a loud clank of metal. He laughs, whipping to the left and slitting the throat of the closest soldier, a spray of red cutting through pale skin and over bright armor.

He hears his men, feels them as they grow closer, their energy renewed as their leader whirls around the circle of men surrounding him, striking the weak points in their armor, cutting them down one by one in quick succession.

He sees a flash of dark metal, his men soon meeting him and fighting alongside as he pushes forward. And as he stabs and cuts and dodges and moves, he remembers.

He remembers the look on Jack's face as he was fitted for his collar, his nose wrinkling in distaste in the mirror as the tailor measured him in front of the mirror. Dark had chuckled, leaning against the open door frame, and Jack had met his eyes in the mirror, surprised but unafraid.

He remembers Jack's first meal at the Great Table, right at his side. He remembers having to hide his smile in his goblet as Jack had leaned close, muttering about the royalty who came as guests to his ball. He remembers almost choking on his wine when Jack muttered insults about a particular lord with an unfortunate wig and an even worse attitude.

He remembers that same night taking Jack by the hand and bowing as he asked for a dance, the color on Jack's cheeks light but unmistakable as he allowed Dark to lead him to the middle of the floor, pulling him into an easy waltz. He remembers Jack's hand fisting in the material of his jacket, whispering in the little space between them.

_"What the fuck are yeh doin?"_

_"Dancing."_

_"Yeah, with yer whore. I might as well be a fuckin pile of shite with how these people are lookin at me."_

He remembers pulling back, the hand at Jack's waist coming up to hold his chin between his fingers.

_"You're better than any one of us, darling. Pay them no mind."_

He looked unconvinced, thick brows furrowed over his bright eyes, but said nothing, allowing Dark to pull him closer and resting his chin on his shoulder, fitting so perfectly it was as if they had been made for each other.

He grunts as he pushes an enemy soldier with his shoulder, their swords clashing before he finds an opening, stabbing him through the throat before swinging around to the next opponent.

He remembers Jack's pale form in bed beside him in the early mornings, his skin so soft and beautiful in the pale light of early morning. He remembers the way Jack would look at him when he woke up, still too tired to give his usual snark. His bright eyes soft with sleep, long, beautiful lashes fluttering shut as Dark leaned in to leave the softest of kisses to his cheeks, his jaw. He remembers thinking more than once that he didn't deserve Jack's time, didn't deserve the soft fingers running through his hair and pulling him closer, didn't deserve the soft, sleepy kisses from the beautiful boy beneath him.

He remembers every man and woman he's had these flings with. He remembers every pair of eyes, every face and body. The name's and voices are like ghosts, but Jack, _Seán_ , is bright and clear. Dark had pretended it was because of the newness of him, but somewhere deep in his mind he's always known he's different. He's special.

He remembers every person he's been even remotely this close to. The men and women he brought to satisfy his needs. And he remembers every one of their last moments, with their throats slit by his own blade when he grew tired of them.

He wonders briefly what makes Jack so different. He wonders what would make this one so much more significant that he would put his men and himself in danger to bring him back. But somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows. He may not admit it to himself, may refuse to believe it, yet here he is. Fighting a sea of bright silver to retrieve him, to bring Jack back to him.

For now he shuts out those thoughts trying to work their way forward in his mind, focusing again on pushing toward the man who'd held Jack captive, the same one still standing behind his army, watching as Dark cut down his men one by one. He would kill every one of them himself if it meant having Jack safe with him again.

Soon he's just feet away from the coward still holding Seán at knifepoint, hiding behind his men and watching with growing fear as Dark moves ever closer.

When Dark finally breaks through the men in silver, the few still fighting his men, he stares down the bastard threatening Jack, threatening him with Jack, blood boiling in his veins as he readies a killing blow.

The man, Lord or Barron or whatever the fuck he is, presses the knife just a hair closer to his darling's throat, and Dark stops, gripping his sword while he waits impatiently for whatever dribble the insignificant worm will spew.

"Drop the sword or he dies."

"He dies and you have no escape, no bargaining chips, and a sword through the ribs," Dark replies, watching his gloved hand shake against Jack's throat, dangerously close to knicking the thin skin beneath his blade. Dark steps closer, stalking toward the only thing keeping him from Seán.

"Don't come any closer! We wouldn't want the precious little bedwarmer to get hurt."

"No, we wouldnt."

Dark lunges forward faster than the other can step back, his sword plunging under his armor and into his torso, a sharp, shuddering gasp the only sound from the dying man at the end of his blade as he drops the knife. Dark yanks his blade back and out, and watches as the coward falls with a clatter to the dirt and shit and grime of the battlefield, his own blood bubbling from his mouth as he chokes and sputters for breath.

Jack runs to him, hands shaking and breathing fast as he pulls Dark to him, running a hand through his mussed hair, cupping the sides of his face in his hands as he searches for any sign of injury, running a thumb under a split in his brow he'd received from earlier. Dark feels his shoulders relax with a deep breath under Seán's soft hands and soft gaze, the sounds of the fight behind them forgotten almost completely.

 _"I'm safe, I'm safe,"_ Jack hums in the little space between them, hands fluttering along what little skin he can reach, seemingly unable to keep his hands away from him as they both settle down.

"My liege."

Dark turns to his soldier, not moving away from Jack even when he tries to step away, holding his hands in his own as he tries to rub the shakes away from his still-trembling fingers.

"The fight is done, Your Highness."

Dark gives a single nod, looking over the few men in silver still alive, standing beneath the blades of his men. Dark turns to face his men, still holding one of Seán's hands as he speaks up.

"Let them go," he addresses his own men, watching as their swords move away from their throats. He turns to his enemies, the men in bright silver.

"If any of you should want to see your families again, I suggest you leave now and not return. Should any of you try anything, I have no qualms with cutting you down myself."

And with that, he turns to Seán, bringing the hand still in his hand to his lips, bowing lightly. He smiles against his knuckles as he blushes lightly, much like that night at the ball.

He leads him away from the dead and dying men at their feet, taking the long way around toward a dense forest, keeping close to the clearing as he leads him back toward his men and their horses.

"I knew yeh'd come back fer me," he hums, and Dark doesn't answer audibly, squeezing Jack's hand lightly in his own as they walk close together, weaving through tall pine trees, shoulders brushing as they walk.

Dark is quiet as they move toward his men, and so is Jack, seeming to have sensed Dark's suddenly quiet demeanor.

They soon step out of the forest hand in hand, their horses waiting just a few feet away.

"When we return home," Dark starts, Jack turning to him as they step up to Dark's steed.

"I request no disturbances for the rest of the night, and dinner to be brought to my chambers for myself and Sir Mcloughlin," Dark hums, one of his men nodding his head as he holds the horse steady, Dark helping Jack mount her before hopping on behind him.

He wraps his arms around Seán's waist to grab hold of the reins, turning to watch his men move closer to their steeds, looking over the many men still alive, before turning to snap the reins lightly in the direction of his castle.

It's only several yards away from the other men that Jack speaks up again, settling back against Dark like he was made to fit against him.

"Are you alright?"

"As long as you are, I'm more than fine."

"I'm helping you with that cut above your eye, and any other injuries you may have, when we get back home."

 _Home_ , Dark can't help but think, resting his chin on Seán's shoulder as they ride back to the castle, to warm sheets and delicious food, to shared baths and close contact and Seán, safe and sound in his arms.

He leaves a light kiss against his hair, eager to be alone with the beautiful boy resting against his chest. Eager for soft hands and soft kisses and rest with the one he loves.

**Author's Note:**

> chapter titles and the quote from chapter 2 is from "Collar Full" by Panic! At the Disco


End file.
